


Episode 55: Na'se'tik Za'til

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [55]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Clans, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24091897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "You who have children should understand." ~ KoreKuntz and Kore join the council as they wait for Avilla's final check-in before hyperspace.
Series: Clan Meso'a [55]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1261364
Kudos: 1





	Episode 55: Na'se'tik Za'til

Crack!   
Kuntz panted and swiped the dreadlocks out of his face as he straightened up and assessed the damage to the test dummy. His retractable bo staff, kept concealed inside the pouch at the small of his back, had cracked the hard plastic exterior of the dummy and left a dent in the temple region. He sighed and wiped the sweat from his bow, stowed the staff, and walked back to where a female Mirialan was lounging on a line of munitions crates. She was half asleep, snoring and waking herself every half an hour or so. He’d planned on getting a longer workout in, but the sound of her sleeping meant that wasn’t going to happen. Approaching her, he tapped her forehead gently.   
“Pixo nas’u’luk, cyare,” he said softly, wiping the corner of her mouth where the drool had coalesced. [It’s time for us to go, dear].   
Kore wrinkled her nose and swatted his hand away, yawned, and stretched.   
“Tak’al’kan,” she groaned, rolling onto her side. [I want five more (minutes)].   
He sighed and shook his head, pulled out his staff and returned to the dummy.   
Crack! Crack! Kerchak!   
The dummy’s head shot to the side. Kuntz shook his head and made to drag it back to where the other dummies were lined up against the wall, but the lack of snoring from his wife took his attention. She was lying on her side now with her back to him. In his mind’s eye, he could see a small, round face peeking up over her and two small hands on her side, shaking her awake.   
“Mot!” the child protested, “Tak we’ne!” [Mom, I’m tired!]  
“Le le le,” she’d chuckle, rolling over and pulling him onto her stomach. [I know, I know].   
Catching the child’s attention, Kunzt would spin his staff in one hand and the boy would gasp, his eyes wide and the biggest grin on his face. He’d hold out his hands and bow as if the display of dexterity was nothing, but it was everything to him, everything to Tavut…   
“Na’ucche Tat,” Kore said, causing the illusion to fade [“You’re an old man” lit. you old father].   
She was lying on her back now, looking up at him with her pale green eyes weary from a lack of good sleep. He shrugged, walking back to her. She shifted and raised her hand to his face; he leaned forward and let her touch his cheek.   
“Ta xi’kiin, ra xi’kiin,” he sighed, turning and kissing her fingers as she pulled her hand away. [“Another day for me, another day for you” lit. "my day, your day"; said when someone has survived things that they could have perished to].   
She started to reply but stopped. The main door to the training room had opened and Xal’que stuck her head in. Had it not been for a blaster backfiring on her when she was training for her choxultz, she and her older sister would have been identical. Instead, she had the remnants of a wide burn on the side of her face that extended from her right jawline up above her eyebrow which was noticeably thin close to her temple. She gestured from them to herself.   
“Ta’p’tal,” she called out to them, “Na’pixo.” [Come with me, it’s time.]   
“Come on,” Kuntz said softly, taking her hand and helping her to a sitting position. There was a webbing of depressed skin on her face from where she’d slept on her shoulder furs; she passed her hands over it and chuckled.   
“How do I look?” she asked.   
“Like lightning in the clouds,” he replied, tracing the longest line from her temple to her lips. She pushed his hand away and rammed her shoulder into his chest. He staggered back but returned with his own charge, nearly knocking her back over the crates.   
“Eesh!” she exclaimed, hanging onto his pauldrons so she didn’t lose her balance.   
Kuntz caught her in his arms and swept her off the crates, gently setting her on the floor and kissing her forehead. She pulled out of his arms, but pulled one across her shoulders and hugged his side, leading them over to Xal’que who was chuckling into her hand.   
“Xi’mik nas’yaak’un,” she shook her head. [“I get it you’re in love” lit. I know you all love.]  
Kore laughed but Kuntz grunted and decoupled himself from Kore, leaving the women behind him as he pushed ahead down the corridor. Xal’que took his place at Kore’s side and the two began chatting conspiratorially. Kuntz shook his head again and shot behind him:   
“Ras a’kex’ika.” [“You’re (both) children” lit. you (all) are like a child], but that only made them laugh harder. He sighed loud enough for them to hear. Kuntz was far too old for this and Kore was too, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. Besides, he thought as a slight smile formed, it makes her happy. 

Alor Yaun greeted them back in the council chambers with a curt nod as he studied a series of star charts projected over the main holotable.   
“She’s here,” he said, pointing at the northern portion of the debris field, “In two days she’ll be at the last checkpoint before the jump.”   
“Then?” Kuntz asked, crossing his arms.   
“Then we wait,” answered Koucitesh, seated in the first row of benches beside her mother-in-law.   
Kuntz raised his chin to them both; they returned the gesture, although Baba Weiyn looked as though she was close to falling asleep. Kore took a seat on Weiyn’s left and began chatting with her, gently waking the older woman; Koucitesh stood and returned to the holotable beside her husband who was talking to Falkit. The teal Nautolan was expressing his displeasure at how wet the spring had been, leading one of the muddiest summers to date. Taerh’a offered to see about pushing up the reinforcement of the lava walls, but Falkit disagreed.   
“Until we can secure the ground, the walls will just slide out of place,” he reasoned.   
“I understand that,” Taerh’a replied, “but as they stand an eruption now would wipe out half of your foothill villages.”   
“I’m aware, I am, but what good would reinforcement do if the ground is unstable?”   
“Is that your assessment or theirs?”  
Falkit shook his head, “It’s science.”   
Kuntz cleared his throat, “I will join you. Your kexultz.”   
“Ah, Kuntz,” Falkit smiled, moving around Taerh’a to the indigenous male, “Just you?”  
He nodded, “Kore will remain for Ba’atuk.”   
“How is she?” asked Taerh’a, more to Kore than to Kuntz.   
Kore shook her head, momentarily making eye contact with Dedel seated on a side bench beside H’umm. At the mention of his daughter, he grew quiet and attentive of the other conversation. Falkit looked back at him then to Kore.   
“We all hope for a quick recovery,” he said.   
“Indeed,” Dedel replied with a polite smile.   
H’uum tugged his sleeve and whispered something to him. He shook his head and whispered back. Kuntz frowned but chose not to say anything. Taerh’a, who’d been watching Kuntz, put a hand on his shoulder.   
“I spoke with your son just a day ago,” he began, leading Kuntz away from the table to the benches opposite Weiyn and Kore, “He was brave.”   
Kuntz gave a half smile, “He is like his mother.”   
Taerh’a shook his head, “He is like you in more ways than one.”   
“How so?”   
“Well,” the Togruta smirked, “he’s not much for conversation and,” he added when Kuntz rolled his eyes, “He has a deep concern for those around him.”   
“Is that so?”   
Taerh’a nodded, “You could say I was surprised almost that he was both resigned but also willing.”   
“Willing?” Kuntz scoffed, “Was he ever given a choice?”   
“He was,” interjected Alor Yaun.   
“I don’t want to have this argument again,” said Kore before either of them could respond, “None of us like this, Kuntz and I more than any of you know, but,” she paused, meeting her husband’s eyes, “Na’se’tik za’til,” [He protects the mountain].   
“Le,” said Falkit, raising an invisible glass.   
“That he is,” agreed Alor Yaun, “a’ra?” he asked Palouta [and you?].   
The indigenous male had been quiet for the past hour, standing beside Yaun with his eyes closed and his arms crossed tight to his chest. At the sound of the question, he opened his eyes slowly and nodded.   
“He is brave,” he said solemnly before closing his eyes once again.   
“Still doing the math?” asked Koucitesh.   
“Lay’alie,” he replied. [Always].


End file.
